


on the edge

by shukagari



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blushy Keith, Happy Ending, M/M, Nobody Dies, fluffy + angsty, i think i edited out all of the shallura so it's now allura/female oc but only for a bit, i wrote this before age reveals, this was fun, two years in space future fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-05 21:58:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10317866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shukagari/pseuds/shukagari
Summary: Lance and Keith still have a lot things left unsaid between them, which kind of sucks since they sort of might be dying.Keith and Lance get ambushed on an alien planet, and this is what happens before, after and during the event –  complete with a series of look-back moments on their ever-changing relationship.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything on here in quite some time. I have been writing, but I've been sort of out of it and this one took me ages to complete and I didn't want to start on anything else until I finished it. 
> 
> I really hope you like this!! Blood and stuff is mentioned, but it's not really gorey aside from that, at all. 
> 
> Also like I apologise if there's any mistakes, I'm about to go over and proofread it again but sometimes I miss things so yeah I apologise!
> 
> (also the keith clenching his fist thing isn't cause he wants to punch somebody it's a thing I've noticed that I sometimes do when i get anxious or nervous or whatever so yeah I made Keith do it, too).

“Shit,” Keith murmurs as his vision blanks out again, black dots appearing before his eyes. He blinks slowly, his every movement is sluggish and weighted with a bone-aching weariness.

Lance stumbles against him; arm slipping from where it's wrapped around Keith's shoulders, tight as a vice but slowly weakening. Keith brings his hand up to grip his wrist, holding him steady.

The cavern walls around them shift in and out of focus as Keith squeezes his eyes shut and tries to concentrate. His head feels awful, pounding away like a drum, and he's finding it harder and harder to keep on fighting to keep his eyes open. Keith shakes himself, and squints ahead. He was certain the entrance was around here somewhere, and then their lions wouldn't be far away after that, they'd parked close by – 

“You okay?” Lance asks breathlessly, his breathing ragged and tapering off; his mouth doesn't shut when he finishes, mouth hanging open like he's on the verge of vomiting. Blood collects at the corner of his lips, and drips slowly down his chin.

“Yeah,” Keith gasps out, eyes squeezed shut. He slumps against the cavern wall closest to him, dragging Lance down with him. He closes his eyes and attempts to catch a breath that doesn't want to be caught. 

Dramatics are normally Lance's style, but Keith feels that he is being perfectly reasonable – as his blood runs smoothly and quickly down his side, it's hasn't hit an artery at least, that would've been spurting up everywhere and Keith couldn't deal with that kind of mess right now – when he comes to the conclusion that they are in deep shit. 

He slips down the cave wall a little, and his body is so heavy, and Lance is so heavy and his blood just won't stop _spilling_.

Lance twitches against him, lifting his head with a visible effort. “Hey,” he says softly, eyes spaced. “It's okay. You can rest now.” The blood has run from the end of his chin, and down his neck.

“Yeah?” Keith asks, quiet as well. Everything is sort of ill-defined and soft around the edges, but he can still make out the sort of woozy, intense blue of Lance's eyes.

Keith really likes those eyes. He wishes he'd said it more, or said it at all outside of his own head. He wishes that he'd gotten something to change.

“Yeah,” Lance repeats, agreeing, his eyes flickering closed. “You can rest now.”

Keith knows, vaguely in the back of his mind, that he shouldn't – but he's too weak, and he just can't fight it anymore.

Keith slips down the wall, leaving a smudge of red behind, to the ground. He curls his arms around Lance's waist, holding him close and slightly on top of him. “Comfy?” he asks, without really knowing why – although, if this is the end, why wouldn't he want him to be?

“Peachy,” Lance corrects, and he tucks his face into Keith's neck. His breath is a warm and comforting presence there; it let's Keith know that he is still alive, and he desperately doesn't want it to stop.

They slip into a long thoughtful silence, one in which Keith dances in and out of conciousness when Lance's voice calls him back – it's quiet still, slipping away and slowly becoming untethered from its owner.

“Thank you, Keith,” Lance says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper; and his words are garbled and wet, his mouth full of blood but Keith can still catch them, just abouts. “We would have been something good, wouldn't we? We were on the edge of something great.”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees, just as quiet; his eyelids flutter shut, as he concentrates on the warmth of Lance's body against him. “We were. We _are_.” And if this is where it all ends for them, on the edge is where they will always remain. Just a moment away from something great. 

–

Before; 

3.

Lance's hand rests, forgotten, on Keith's shoulder, as they go over the plan; Keith's seated at the table, and Lance is hovering behind him. 

“We're sending you both down,” Allura is telling them, her finger tapping her chin as she considers the map of the planet she has laid out on the table. “It's a planet that's long since been abandoned, by the Galra and its original inhabitants, we don't expect you to find much, if anything at all – but we feel it's always imperative that we check everything out where Galra are involved, just to make sure we don't miss anything.”

Keith nods his head, arms folded to his chest. Behind him, Lance tilts his head to look at him, gauging his reaction and then nods his head as well, adding, “Sure thing, Allura,” he says in a level voice, his fingers shift on Keith's shoulder.

Keith closes his eyes, sucks in a quiet breath and tries to ignore it – but his skin is prickly with sensation wherever Lance is touching him, he is aware of Lance on a totally new scale (new in that he's never experienced it with anyone else before; but not so much in reference to Lance, two years in space and the sensation is almost normal to him now - but it's still something he's not sure how to deal with just yet; he knows what he wants to do with it, but he's not sure what Lance wants and he doesn't want to cause _unnecessary_ complications that could get in the way of their mission). He hears the hitch of Lance's breath as Allura shows them pictures of the planet that looks suspiciously like an earthen desert, and shuffle of his feet as he leans in closer. 

Lance bumps into Keith on the way out, as they both try to get through the doors and Keith is sure it's on purpose when he turns to give him a wide, smug grin; raising two fingers to his forehead in a mock-salute as he backs out of the room. 

“Watch yourself there, Keith,” he says, giving him a little wink - his smug smile never wavering as he turns and walks on ahead. 

Keith purses his lips, and pretends that he doesn't find him endearing. 

2.

Keith pauses in his training session when Lance enters, and the gladiator powers down; he lifts the end of his shirt and wipes away the sweat at his brow.

“Hey, Lance,” he greets him readily - and everything they do now works in complete contrast to how they used to be; although some things, the fun parts, have definitely stayed the same - dropping his shirt and giving him a little nod of his head. 

Lance licks his lips, his eyes raising from Keith's chest. “Hey, uh, Keith,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. “How much longer are you gonna train for?”

Keith considers this carefully, and then shrugs his shoulders; he normally just goes on until he burns out, until his body aches all over and that constant need to do _something_ has finally been replaced by tiredness - but he can't say that to Lance. “Maybe just a half hour more,” he says, and lifts his bayard again, preparing to continue; he shifts his legs apart, and drops his body down. 

“Nuh-uh,” Lance says, jumping between him and the fortunately still powered down gladiator, arms spread wide. He shakes his head, “Not now, Mr Macho, it's sleepy time. We've got a mission tomorrow and we've gotta be well-rested for it.”

Keith frowns, his brow crumpling together with his confusion. “Mr Macho?” (Over the last two years Keith has come to understand Lance's humour, he even finds him funny, most of the time, but he's still occasionally thrown for a loop).

“Yeah,” Lance begins easily, and gestures to Keith's body with a sweeping hand, “Because you are all strong and stuff. You got that good body.”

“Oh,” Keith says, considering. “That makes sense, I guess?.”

Lance grins, and claps a hand to Keith's shoulder; touching Keith, to Lance, has almost become second nature – he's always doing it, even if he doesn't notice – it's a habit, a comfort and when he does take notice, it's something he likes to do. 

“Come on,” Lance says, guiding him towards the door; and Keith moves easily with him, pliant under his hands. “Let's get you to bed.”

1.

Lance grins widely at him as Keith sits himself down at the table at breakfast the next morning, his face bright and illuminated by the soft blue light of the castle. 

“Good morning,” Lance chirps amiably, scooping up a healthy mountain of goo into a bowl. 

“Morning,” Keith says in return, eyeing him up. 

Keith watches him carefully, Lance isn't normally so chipper this early in the morning, neither is he normally up so early – at least not before Keith. Keith wonders if he's nervous about the mission, he wonders if he'd slept restfully, or if he'd even slept at all. He wonders what Lance looks like when he's asleep, if he snores, if he has particularly awful bed-head when he wakes, if he – 

“Here you go,” Lance interrupts his spiralling thoughts, holding out the bowl of goo he'd been scooping to Keith.

Keith blinks at him, taking a second to catch up and then he jerks himself into action; throwing out an arm to grab it. 

Their fingers brush against each other as he hands over the bowl of goo he'd been scooping, a comforting warmth against Keith's skin and Keith looks away from him now, murmuring a quiet 'thank you', his hand slips out from under Lance's and he quickly occupies himself with his food; pulling it close to his chest so he hulks over it, stabbing at his goo with his spoon and shoving it into his mouth as he glares at the wall way to the left of Lance's head. 

Lance watches Keith from across the table, biting into his lip as he considers him - 'what has the wall ever done to him?' he thinks, 'to earn such a nasty glare'. He gives a fond shake of his head, a smile pulling at his lips as he sneaks glances at him across the table.

Keith flicks his gaze up to him periodically, feeling his cheeks warm whenever he catches Lance looking.

He wonders if they are having a _moment_. If this could be a moment, if he should say something, try to change something –

The others crowd into the room then, Pidge and Hunk at the front, yawning and rubbing at their eyes having just finished an all-nighter working on their alien tech together. 

Keith shakes his head, like he always does. _No,_ he decides, not now, maybe not ever.

–

THIS IS THE END

They were both young, and impossibly reckless, and so full of life, and _love_ with so much left to give, and grow, and learn.

Nothing changed between them (and yet everything had), with just the last few steps were left to be taken towards what they were meant to be. And they hadn't been, due to fear of rejection, due to the fear of change, due to the fear of not being enough, due to the fear of being consumed by what they were to one another. And with the assurance that they had all the time in the world to _change_ it, because they were young, neither of them had felt too bad about it. 

But now Keith had to admit, as he bled out on the cave floor with Lance slumped against him, that not doing anything about it had been a terrible, absolutely stupid mistake. 

But he doesn't have the time now. There's no time, or strength left in him, as he bleeds out and Lance bleeds out on top of him, to change anything. The words are stuck in his head, ( _I love you, I love you, I love-_ ) but he can't get them out, and the words are slowly slipping away altogether. 

He will die any minute now – and although he will fight for every extra second, because Keith Kogane never gives up without one - a fight against death, in the very end, is a battle that cannot be won.

Lance groans, a soft, gargling sound and Keith is warmed, in a dazed sort of way, to be reminded that Lance is by his side, in his last moments. (He'd prefer it, however, if Lance was away from here, safe, and warm, and not _dying_ ).

This is the end, for both of them, he realises and then almost immediately after feels a terrible, aching hole rip open in his chest as Lance slackens against him, his body going still. 

Keith wants to say, _no, no, no, no_

But instead he _drifts_ – 

away

(this is the end)

(...and if there is a next world, he'll grasp the moment, grasp _Lance_ with both hands and he'll never, ever let go; not now, not ever - he'll never let the chance get away from him again because he loves him, he _loves_ him, and he never wants to let go) 

–

Moments (pre-dire straits, before the untimely demise);

Keith is watching Lance. He hardly ever isn't these days. 

Normally he succeeds in keeping it to a normal level of staring (the rest of the crew would attest to it, on both sides, most certainly not being normal) – he doesn't think he could tear his eyes away today, not when Lance is in a suit.

And today, Lance catches him at it – their eyes locking across the banquet hall.

Lance smiles at him wide, and happy – then points at Keith, smooths a hand down his front, nods his head and gives him two thumbs up. Keith tilts his head in confusion. 

“He's saying you look good,” Pidge informs him as she passes, not pausing in her pursuit as she hurries after a waiter carrying a platter of what appears to be peanut butter on soft, floured baps, or at least the alien version of it.

Keith feels himself flush, and he fights against the urge to look away from Lance. Instead he points at Lance, nods and gives two thumbs up of his own. 

A slow smile spreads out across Lance's lips; twin patches of colour brightening his cheeks.

\- 

“We have given them some pain medication,” the alien doctor informs them as they push onwards, hurrying quickly through the hospital hallway. “Whilst it has helped with the pain, they both seem to have suffered from some side-effects – we are unsure if this is just a, erm, _human_ affliction, or if it is something more urgent.” They reach the door, and the doctor pushes it open, “After you.”

Shiro frowns, stepping into the hospital room, Pidge following him in. It is a clean, sterile place: grey walls, two beds, no windows so it's lit by two bedside lamps and one hanging from the ceiling; it's about as drab as human military barrack would be. 

Keith and Lance lay, perfectly at peace, together on _one_ bed; their arms wrapped tight around each other.

“As you can see,” the alien doctor says, drawing Shiro's attention with a hand to Keith and Lance's entangled form. “We have been unable to separate them from each other.” He frowns over at Shiro as if he has the answers to this strange phenomenon; Shiro is just as perplexed as him, but too tired to give it that much importance – it'd been a hard mission and all he wants to do is get to bed now that he knows for sure that Keith and Lance will be okay (cuddling side effects notwithstanding). 

The alien doctor watches Shiro's face nervously, wringing their hands together. 

They look comfortable, Shiro decides, all cuddled up together (Lance's head on Keith's chest, drool dripping delicately from his lips; Keith's arms wrapped tight around his shoulders)

“Whenever we attempt to move them, they-” The doctor pauses, searching for the word. “They _whine_. They don't wake, not yet, but they seem utterly disconsolate at the prospect of being separated from one another even in the state that they are. We thought it best to leave them be, unless you think we should move them?”

Shiro shakes his head, then lifts his steady gaze to give the doctor a reassuring smile. “No,” he says, “They're fine. It's just a human way of showing, erm, affection, I suppose.” 

Pidge looks up, and grins at him at his choice of words in describing Keith and Lance. _Affection_ well, they've always shown it, and Shiro thinks that they all know it (other than Keith and Lance, that is – or at least it's not a shared knowledge between them that the other is in the know). They've shown it in their own way: the smiles that brighten their faces when the other enters the room (fleeting, most of the time, but always there), the smiles they have during and after a moment of pointless bickering between themselves, how they constantly seek each other out even if it's just to tease and prod at each other, how they are almost always constantly touching nowadays – some are common, a universal affection, and some are a brand of affection that is completely their own.

The doctor smiles in relief, nods at the two of them. “Thank you for putting my mind at rest,” they say, “I'll leave you to sit by your friends' bed now.” 

Pidge guffaws as soon as they're left alone, sticking her hand in her pocket and coming up with her phone. “Oh,” she says, a wide grin splitting her face, “I have got to get a picture of this – Lance is going to absolutely _die_.”

“Pidge,” Shiro says warningly, “Don't take pictures.”

“But I just got it working again,” Pidge whines, and pouts up at him in a very Lance like way (that she almost definitely picked up from their frequent hangouts), “What's the point in having it back if I can't take embarrassing pictures of my friends?” She adds on, when Shiro appears unmoved, "It's not for blackmail, I just want to see their reactions to it." Especially Lance's, as she's taken up the role of a teasing little sister now that they're in space and away from family.

Shiro stares at them, dark circles prominent beneath his eyes. He glances at Keith and Lance, watches as Lance yawns and Keith tucks his face into his neck; a smile twitches at his lips. “One photo,” he concedes, heading for the door. “But no more.”

Pidge takes one photo; then later enlarges it, prints it and has it laid out on the dining table for when Keith and Lance return from bed rest - Lance laughs loudly when he sees it, then, when he thinks no one is looking, touches the corners of it gently with an incredibly _soft_ look on his face. (Pidge notices and easily reads him. She sneaks the photo into his room for him, along with a note saying she's glad that he, her brother and one of her best friend's, is feeling better).

–

The white light of a far away star casts drifting shadows down the inside of the chasm. Keith holds tight to his rope as he lowers himself down, faster than he should – but he doesn't care, he can't care because Lance is down there, possibly injured or possibly already gone...

A heavy dread settles over Keith, leaving him feeling like he's just been dunked in a vat of ice – he loses himself in his panic for a moment, before he gives a violent shake of his head in an attempt to clear away the intrusive thoughts. He grits his teeth; he needs to focus.

A vision of Lance's prone form floats up to him through the darkness at the bottom of the pit, lit by a stray shaft of starlight – and Keith panics anyway, scrabbling to unclasp his harness; he drops down the rest of the way, landing with a heavy thud and rolling to his feet. 

“Lance,” he says when he reaches him, reaching out a hand to touch his face, the one without the gash that must've torn open on his fall down; a wound oozes blood at the top of his head.

“Lance,” Keith repeats again, more urgently when he's left without an answer.

There is a long pause of only a few seconds, and then Lance begins to stir.

Lance's eyelids flutter, and Keith leans in closer, holding back on his relief – just in case, just in case – 

“ _Lance_ ,” he says again, and Lance opens his eyes.

He blinks dazedly up at the sky a moment, and then his eyes focus and sharpen, catching on Keith – and even though he's bloody, and barely keeping his eyes open, and probably sore and aching all over, Lance still finds the strength in himself to grin at Keith, endlessly smug. “I knew you'd come for me,” he says, his voice soft, barely above a whisper, “Just can't get enough, huh?”

No, he, really, really can't, is what Keith thinks. He also really, _really_ , really wants to kiss him, so wrapped up in his relief and goddamn love for this idiot smirking up at him.

But he doesn't. 

Keith just rolls his eyes, flicks him lightly on his uninjured cheek, and says, “Come on, let's get you out of here.”

–

Keith watches as Allura dances with the princess of the planet they're visiting, twirling her about on the dance floor. Allura clutches at her arm, and tips her head back with a laugh, and the princess watches her, her expression soft and a little awed. 

“Hey, Keith,” Lance says next to him, and Keith turns to look at him. He tilts his head towards the dance floor, a warm smile on his face. “Do you maybe wanna dance with me?”

“Ah,” Keith starts awkwardly, his eyes dart to Allura and the princess, held close together by the slowness of the music; he wonders if that's what Lance wants. “I don't really like dancing, at least not with all these people around – it's not you, it's just–”

“That's okay,” Lance tells him, his smile never faltering – still bright, and warm with understanding as he looks at Keith. He touches Keith's wrist, and points to a bunch of chairs set up around a table. “How about we just sit and chat?”

Keith stares at him mutely, surprised by Lance's quick acceptance and then he feels himself begin to smile. “Okay,” he agrees, and leads the way through the crowd.

Lance watches after him, his smile melting into something soft and fond. 

–

Keith enters the observation deck to a quietly contained sniffling, his gaze drifts around the room, searching for the source – to Lance, curled up in the bay window, his face buried in his knees. 

Keith purses his lips, his brow crumples and he makes to step forward, hand already outstretched when he pauses. He's not sure if Lance is the sort who likes to be alone in his sadness, or if he likes comfort – he's not sure of that, but he knows he doesn't like seeing him like this.

He bites his lip, and wonders if he should get Hunk – but it's late at night, and Hunk's most likely asleep, and he's here anyway.

He squares his shoulders, and steps forwards. 

“Hey,” Keith greets cautiously, walking carefully over to him. His heart lurches in his chest when Lance startles and lifts his head to look at him; Lance looks surprised to see him there but Keith is more focussed on the fact that his eyes are red, and wet, and that he looks absolutely broken down.

Lance hurriedly mops at his eyes, his cheeks colouring pink. “Sorry,” he says, he attempt to grin but it's so obviously fake that Keith feels almost insulted that Lance thought he could trick him with it, “I didn't hear you–”

“What's wrong?” Keith interrupts, not meeting his eyes as his hands curl into fists. He feels awkward and out of sorts, not sure what to do in a situation like this – but he knows that he wants to help.

Lance blinks slowly, his mouth dropping little ways open. “Oh,” he says, then attempts to pass it off with a shrug. “I was just feeling a little homesick – it doesn't matter, really–”

Keith interrupts him again by plopping down opposite him, staring intensely into his eyes and then gesturing wordlessly at his lap.

Lance stares at him, stunned. “What?”

Keith scowls, but his cheeks flush a deep red. “You can hug me,” he says, “If you want. I just thought it might help, it's what Hunk or Pidge would do for you, right?”

Lance stares at him.

The silence lingers, and Keith begins to shift about awkwardly beneath his gaze.

And then he laughs, mops at the remaining tears on his face and crawls towards him with a quiet, "Thanks, buddy.".

He shuffles in between Keith's stretched out legs and presses his face into Keith's chest, letting his arms hang around Keith's hips.

Keith visibly hesitates a moment, before bringing his own arms up to rest about Lance's shoulders. “Better?” he asks after a long moment, and hopes Lance can't tell how nervous he is about the answer.

“Yeah,” Lance says, already sounding sleepy; his voice drifting away. He gives Keith's waist a gentle squeeze. “Much better.”

Keith moves his hand to stroke up and down the back of Lance's neck, and Lance makes a quiet, contented sound that has Keith's lips twitching up into a small smile. He strokes his hand through Lance's short hair, and does this until Lance goes soft and pliant against him, his quiet snores filling the room. 

Keith snorts, shakes his head, then leans back and attempts to fall asleep himself.

\- 

(On planet – the mission) 

“It sure is orange down here,” Lance says as he steps out of his lion, putting his hands on his narrow hips as he turns in a circle, surveying the area. “Very, very orange.”

Keith watches him, and then flicks his gaze up and away when Lance turns to him. “Yeah,” he agrees, “It is.”

The orange sand shifts about at their feet in a gentle breeze, the sky above them is dark but for a few sparse stars and the far off, and surrounding dunes and ridges loom large and solid around them; all-encompassing like tall towers on a city block. It is so quiet out here, and Keith feels completely at peace; his eyes slip closed for a moment, the soft breeze tickles his cheeks, and the sand swirls up against his armour and drifts back downwards as softly as dust.

He breathes in deeply through his nose, and let's his chest expand and then deflate. He does it once more, and then again, feeling his shoulders fall back down into place. He opens his eyes, and catches Lance watching him. 

Lance doesn't look away, just let's his eyes wander down Keith's face, to his chest – Keith feels warmed by it, like his gaze is a physical caress; heavy and piercing. 

Lance looks away, then back; a smile spreads out slowly across his lips, and a dimple sits in his cheek. 

Keith licks his lips, slowly bringing up a hand to scratch at his neck. “We should get going,” he says, then looks down at his bayard in his hands as he twists it about, and notices that his hands are shaking. He doesn't know why he is, but he always seems to be when Lance looks at him like that – like he feels even a little of what Keith feels for him. 

He always looks away when he feels them coming on, the shakes, and he struggles to keep the smile from his face – because it's not _real_. It's just his imagination desperately trying to come up with a solution to the problem, to the problem that he is so desperately, so completely in love with Lance and yet Lance does not feel the same. 

Lance's feet step into his field of vision, it is silent for a very long moment – the world is still, and Keith can feel Lance there, so close – his hand claps down on Keith's shoulder and he startles.

Lance laughs, and shakes his head when Keith looks up. “Okay,” he says, grinning. “Let's get going.” His eyes are warm as he looks at Keith. 

Keith stares at him, and Lance turns him around with a gentle touch to his shoulder. 

“This looks kinda like your desert,” Lance comments mildly. He turns to grin at Keith, pointing to the cave they are heading for. “Is that where you'd live, since you're like a goblin?” he asks.

Keith blinks at him. “What the hell?” he says slowly.

“Look,” Lance snickers, then attempts to keep a straight face. “You live in the shadows, you're small and perpetually scowly, you probably feast on the fingers of human children – so of course I came to the natural conclusion, you are a goblin.”

“I must be getting pretty hungry,” Keith tells him, “I haven't seen any human children in a long while, unless we're going off mental age cause I guess then that yours would do just fine.” He jokes, he knows Lance is just as smart as the rest of them; if not smarter, especially when it comes to battle strategy.

Lance gasps in mock-outrage, “Rude, Keith!”

“And besides,” Keith continues, looking over at him, “I'm like an inch shorter than you at the most, Lance.”

“Every inch counts,” Lance tells him with a shrug, and then smiles wider when he catches Keith looking. 

Keith's eyes linger on his smile a moment, and then he rolls them again and focusses on the way ahead. 

–

The planet isn't empty. 

Or it had been, until they arrived. 

One of them had tripped a pressure pad, hidden beneath the sand, and the Galra drones had descended – one moment the cavern was empty but for two of them, and in the next they are surrounded and fighting for their lives. 

“It was obviously you,” Lance cuts in, as he jumps in front of Keith, holding up his shield to fend off the blow from a robot's electric spear. 

“You're the one who stomps about like an elephant all the time,” Keith says, as he ducks around Lance so he can take cut at the robot's legs that had been advancing on Lance's left. “So, no, Lance, I disagree – it was obviously you.”

“Excuse me,” Lance says, shooting him a grin, “I'm as light-footed as a ballerina. 

Keith pushes Lance down with a hand to his shoulder, reaching over him to decapitate the enemy with his bayard. “You? A ballerina,” he scoffs in Lance's face when he hops back up beside him. "Like that would ever happen." 

“Say that to the trophy I have for _outstanding_ dancing sitting in my room back home,” Lance says, before easily shooting down a robot just behind Keith's back. 

Keith is impressed (on both accounts, the _ballet_ and the shooting, although Lance's skill in battle is something he's almost grown accustomed to), and he barely suppresses a proud smile – Lance twirls around him, grin cock-sure on his lips, their eyes lock for a moment – the light of battle bright in both – and then Lance is behind him, back pressed against his own and it's the two of them against a steadily dwindling enemy.

The walls of the cavern are lit up by the glow of the blasts from Lance's gun, and the robots sparking forms as they crumble. The bodies pile up, and soon there's only Lance and Keith left, with a handful of robots – two advancing on Lance's side, three at Keith's back. 

They're battle ready – sure of each other, - finely tuned for the field – but everyone has a weakness, and in this moment, Keith's weakness is Lance. 

Out of the corner of his eye he spots the robot raising its blaster, pointed straight at Lance whose distracted by something at Keith's back – he won't get out of the way in time. 

Keith moves without really thinking about it, and Lance grips his arm, and shoves past him just as Keith moves in front of him and takes the blast. They both grunt in pain, and Keith looks down to the burning wound in his side, slowly beginning to flow with blood. 

He shoots his eyes back up to the advancing robot, and beheads it with one swift swing of his arm. Lance's gun goes off, and a heavy body clatters to the ground. Their panted breaths fill the cavern. 

“Fuck,” Lance murmurs behind him. “Keith.” 

Keith turns on slow feet, his hand pressed to his side. Lance is watching him – hand pressed to his chest, blood swelling out and dripping between his fingers. Keith's eyes widen, and they both blink up at each other, Lance's eyes raising from Keith's bloody side.

“You!” They both cry accusingly, and Keith shakes his head, his pain forgotten in his sudden anger. 

“You took a blast for me?” They say, once again in unison. Their raised voices echo back to them on the inside of the cavern. 

They stare at each other for a long moment, and then Lance swears. “Fuck,” he cries, and tilts dangerously to the right. He slaps a hand back to his chest and grunts in pain.

Keith stumbles over to him, puts a hand on his shoulder. He's sweating buckets and he's suddenly finding it very hard to raise his head; he forces himself to lift up anyway, checking Lance over. “You okay?” he asks.

Lance laughs and shakes his head, before he gives Keith a weak imitation of his usual cock-sure grin. “I'm fine,” he says, and then visibly grimaces before he quickly shuts that away. “You okay?” he asks Keith, raising an eyebrow. 

Keith's blood has begun to seep through his glove; his hand pressed to the gaping hole at his side. He ignores it. “Yeah,” he lies, “We should get out of here.”

“Yeah,” Lance agrees, and shakes his head again as if he's trying to clear it. “We better get out of here, and when we do I'm going kiss you silly.

In his state, it takes a while for Keith to catch up, but when he does he freezes up for a few seconds, before he softens completely. He tilts around to give Lance a smirk, “I'm going to hold you to that.”

Lance gives him a flickering grin, his eyes tired, “You better.”

Keith doesn't question what it means, he doesn't know if it's just Lance flirting, whilst it would mean so much more to Keith. He doesn't want to know, so he doesn't ask - he just slowly but carefully manages to manoeuvre Lance's arm around his shoulders, both of them wincing as he does.

Lance slips off the wall and falls against him, and they almost collapse to ground there and then. Keith's vision swims, but he finds the strength to wrap Lance's arms around his shoulders and drag him to his feet.

He takes a small shaking step through the cave, and towards their lions. 

–

_this isn't the end_

Keith wakes up first, he falls out of the healing pod and lands hard on his knees, his hands planted firmly on the ground. He stares down at the dark floor, fingers numbly seeking out the place where the gaping wound had been at his side. It's gone, it's healed, maybe Lance's has healed as well - his stomach plummets, and his heartrate shoots up - _Lance_

Shiro is by his side in seconds, soothing hand on his shoulder; whispering, quiet worried questions in his ear. 

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith gasps, struggling in Shiro's grip, trying to see around him. “Is he okay?” he asks, getting increasingly frantic, “Where is he? Where's Lance?”

“Keith,” Shiro cuts in, and Keith looks at his face, eyes wide and fearful. Shiro smiles reassuringly at him, and squeezes his shoulder. “Lance is okay. You are both _okay_.” 

“Oh,” he says, processing a moment and then he slumps back down to the ground, sagging in relief. _Lance is okay. They are both okay. Lance is alive after everything that happened-_. His body snaps tight, and he draws in a sharp breath. Lance is alive after he _stupidly_ jumped under fire for him.

Keith grits his teeth, hands tightening into fists against the ground and something hot like anger bolts through him. _How could he? How could Lance do that?_ Keith shoves up off the floor, dashes past the rest of the paladins (Hunk reaching for him, concern wrought into his features, and Pidge watching him curiously as she shove her glasses up her nose, her brow beginning to wrinkle in concern as well) and bangs out the door.

–

The door of the training deck slides open behind Keith, and he doesn't bother checking who it is, he can tell by their footsteps alone. 

Lance doesn't say anything, and neither does Keith. He just keeps on fighting the gladiator, and barely halts in his progress as Lance steps up beside him, drawing his own bayard into the air.

Lance spares him a single, flashing glance and then they fall into their usual routine almost too easily, now with everything in the air – everything that they'd left unsaid for so long now _almost_ fully realised, and after everything that happened.

They dart around each other, flowing as smoothly as running water – although, they are unusually careful not to touch each other this time around, this new cautiousness barely impedes them – ducking, and stepping in front of the other to block an attack with their shield.

It continues like this for all of five minutes – right until Lance steps in front of Keith again and just barely gets his shield up in time. At that, the steadily building tension in Keith's body just _snaps_. 

He throws down his bayard, letting it thud heavily to the ground, and jolts towards Lance; his face a mask of anger and frustration – eyebrows pulled down, teeth almost bared and eyes dark and intense.

“Lance,” he growls, stepping closer and Lance finally looks over at him, his expression quickly morphing into one of surprise. The gladiator halts now that their attention is so clearly drawn away, and powers down. 

Lance backs away a step, dropping his bayard as well and bringing his hands up, palms facing outward; placating. “Woah, now, Keith,” he says, “Why do you look like you are just about ready to maul me? Stay calm, deep breaths now.”

“I am calm,” Keith spits in a way which is definitely not calm.

Lance rolls his eyes. “Okayyy,” he says, then folds his arms together and raises an eyebrow. “What's eating you?”

Keith scowls, looking down to the ground, tightening his hands into fists – before he glowers back over at Lance, gaze sharp and angry. “You! You idiot!” he begins hotly, he glares, then stutters off immediately as Lance's lips dip slightly; he swallows thickly, his mouth dry. He begins again, quieter and more solemn. “Don't do that again,” he says, a frown twitches at his lips, and his eyebrows comes together, “ _Please_.”

Lance looks away, rubbing awkwardly at his chin. He purses his lips. “Do what?” he asks, even though his manner indicates that he already knows.

“Don't jump in front of anything for me,” Keith says, “Don't take anything for me. _Promise_ me that.” His voice cuts off, breaking under the heavy emotions clogging up his throat and pricking at his eyes. He rubs at them harshly, frustrated and his cheeks colour with an embarrassed flush. 

Lance frowns deeply, and looks up, eyes hard and jaw set. “ _No_ ,” he tells him stubbornly. “I won't. And way to be hypocritical, Keith, you did the exact same thing with me.” He frowns back down at the ground, and continues on quieter, “It's not like I liked you jumping in front of it for me, either.”

Keith frowns as well, but doesn't say anything back.

“So I won't,” Lance continues, voice growing steadily stronger. “I won't,” he says, “because I don't want you to die. I can't promise you anything because I won't be able to keep it.”

Keith doesn't want Lance to die – and he doesn't want Lance putting himself in danger for him.

Keith feels some of that passing annoyance, and _betrayed_ anger trickling back in. “Fine!” he snaps. “Then I can't promise that I won't do anything either! I'm going to be jumping in front of anything that comes your way!”

“Not if I get to it first!” Lance retorts, a fiercely stubborn pout taking over his face, drawing his eyebrows down. He glares at Keith, not backing down.

“Fine!” Keith snaps again, and angles himself away, folding his arms close to his chest.

They stand in silence, arms folded petulantly and lips scowling. The seconds tick by, and the silence presses in closer, heavier and more suffocating.

Keith chances a glance Lance's way, and catches him in the act of sneaking a peek.

Lance doesn't look away, and neither does Keith.

Lance looks him over, face tinting with colour, seeming almost awkward in the aftermath. He shuffles his foot about on the floor, biting on his lip. “You okay?” he asks, eyes flickering over Keith's body. “I didn't get to ask.”

And something surges up inside of Keith then, something hot and burning and _desperate_ \- he makes a noise of almost wounded frustration, then charges at Lance who only manages to widen his eyes in surprise before Keith is there, up in his face and clapping his hands to his cheeks.

Lance gives a series of quick blinks, trying to catch up. Keith tilts forward and smushes his forehead into the curve between Lance's neck and shoulder, throat tight, overcome with an almost violent surge of _affection_ for the other boy.

“Uh, Keith?” Lance queries, his hands move down Keith's arms to his wrist; his fingertips almost idly tracing the bare skin there. “Are you okay?”

Keith wrenches back to give him a hard stare. He licks his lips. Lance stares back at him; his eyes dart downwards, then back up. His heartbeat thunders in his ears. Lance's fingers brush his knuckles, and clutch at his own, now resting at Lance's jaw.

“You okay, Keith?” Lance asks again, a slight wrinkle forming in his brow. 

Keith let's out a shakey breath, and lick his dry lips again. 

“Can I,” he begins awkwardly; his cheeks are suffused with colour. “Can I kiss you?”

Lance breaks out in a smile, like he's been waiting for it and like he welcomes it. “I think I remember saying something about kissing earlier,” Lance says, “When we were dying.”

He pauses, eyes darting to Keith, wondering if he's fucked up by bringing _that_ up again. 

Keith just harrumphs and gives a tired shake of his head. “I remember,” he says, a hint of a teasing smirk touches at his lips for barely a second, before he reverts back to a carefully constructed blankness. “If I hadn't been bleeding out already, I would have died from cringing instead.”

“Hey!” Lance complains, but before he can launch any further into it, Keith grins, slips his hands back up to his cheeks and drags him down into a kiss. 

Lance's hands flap about, his eyes impossibly wide, before he relaxes; eyes slipping closed as he puts his hands on Keith's shoulders. 

Keith kisses Lance even though Lance had said that he'd kiss him back in the caves of that alien planet. He kisses him, and it doesn't matter, because they are kissing and they are both here, and they are okay, and they are _alive_. 

Their lips slide together, Lance groans softly into it and it sends a kick of something hot through Keith's gut. He squeezes his closed eyes, and pushes in closer; until Lance's chest is crushed against his own. 

Keith moves away from Lance's lips, pressing heated kisses across his face – to the bridge of his nose and the faint dusting of freckles there, to the space between Lance's eyebrows, to the corner of his now perfectly glossy and red lips – and he feels it under his wandering mouth when Lance smiles; his cheeks drawing up and eyes crinkling. 

Lance's lips touch Keith's ear when Keith kisses his neck, his hand coming up to brush into Keith's hair, he groans, a quivering, “ _Fuck_ , Keith,” and Keith doesn't stop kissing him until his lips rest at Lance's sharp collarbones. 

Keith pulls back, and Lance's hand lingers in his hair, carefully carding through it. Lance's expression is soft, and dazed and it softens even more as they look at each other. 

“Hey,” Lance says, the tip of his thumb sliding down Keith's jaw. 

Keith feels his lips twitch up in a smile. “Hey,” he says back. 

His jaw kind of hurts, his heart is still going a mile a minute but Keith doesn't think that he's ever been so _happy_.

His breath catches in his throat. 

“Fuck,” Keith murmurs breathlessly as he stares into Lance's eyes; whose brow is creasing in slight bewilderment, “ _Fuck_ , Lance, I love you so much.” The words come out easily, flowing out of him as easily as water, and he feels so much lighter now that's he said them. 

Lance smiles, cheeks dimpling and eyes curving up. He laughs brightly, pushes forward until their foreheads bump together. “I love you, too,” he says, just as quiet and Keith feels his lips pull up into a smile of his own.

“I should have said something sooner,” Keith says; he moves to rest his head at the point between Lance's shoulder and neck, and closes his eyes. “If you'd died then, I - I.” His throat closes up, and he can't get the rest of his words out.

Lance's hand slips into Keith's hair again, and he holds Keith in place; turning his head to press a kiss to the crown of his head. “It's okay,” he says. “It's okay now. We got there in the end, didn't we? We were just a bit slow on getting _there_.”

Keith snorts softly, says, “That sounds like us.” And pulls back to look at him.

Lance has got that gentle smile on his face, and it only widens when their eyes catch.

Keith's eyes dart across his face, taking him in, and Lance tilts his head, raising an eyebrow at his silence. “What's up?” he asks. 

Keith shakes his head, stares a little more because Lance is just so _beautiful_ ; then leans forward, and kisses him. 

Lance reacts immediately, smiling against his mouth whilst bringing his hand up to the back of Keith's neck. 

And it is okay, but it's also more than that; it's absolutely perfect.

\- end

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you liked this!!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. 
> 
> I hope you have a great day :)
> 
> you can find me at: sakuragimichi.tumblr.com
> 
> (i was going through making edits and changing mistakes and I accidentally wrote 'his face buried in his face' instead of knees and idk i laughed so hard. i think i am quite sleep-deprived lol, it's pretty late but I just wanna finish editing!!)


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